Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Girl Who Fell In Love With Death

It has been many months,
since I saw you last.
to be exact,
since our secret trysts stopped,
since I sent you away,
telling you,
it was the last time.
It was always the last time.
Every time,
I don’t expect to see you again,
but you follow me,
like a phantom,
finding me,
alone at night,
aching for an ending.


I think,
that I’ll forget you,
but you carved your mark,
on each of my bones,
scratching into my skin,
our everlasting union.
You persuade me,
that we’re good together,
gripping me in your grasp,
isolated and influenced,
frightened to forget you,
in case you were meant for me,
but frightened of the hold you have on me.


You are not here,
but I repeat my words.
That was the last time.
That was the last time.
I cast a spell,
casting you out,
keeping myself alive,
just long enough to say,
that I love leaving you behind.
That was the last time.
I have to hope,
that it was the last time.
I have to love myself,
more than I love you,
it must be the last time.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing


I was on the pier,

playing my part in filling the ocean,

collapsing under the chaos of home,

bound to return,

but broken at the thought.

For a moment,

for the very first time,

I was alone.

There had never been a voice,

or even a familiar, friendly hand to hold,

just a promise of forever,


guiding light,

that surrounded me,


it suddenly went out.

My devotion,


as I bled into the beach,

begging for the space to breathe,

for believing to be easier,

for just a second.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Disappointed, Devoted



I drown my sorrows,

in dark fruit cider,

a dramatic Luis Miguel playlist,

and a bed that is so used to my heartbreak,

that it has learned how best to hold me,

so I don’t entirely fall apart.

I can’t remember who I was,

before becoming your plaything,

and though I strengthen as I sleep,

awake in dreams where I am enough,

to satisfy myself,

I always fall back into the next day,

weak and weeping,

waiting for you to want me again.

Held in my heartbreak,

comatose and crying myself in and out of sleep,

wondering what will become of me,

if there is nothing more.

There is just enough of me left,

to be disappointed again,


but who knows,

after then.


Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Summer Nights

The summer nights are long and light,

I used to love them,

sitting with the sun,

but now,

the never ending daylight won’t let me rest,

keeping me awake,

and aware,

of how solitary the summer becomes,

when my heart is a hostage,

that can never come home again.


one day,

the sun and I will sit together again,

but by then,

I will be scarred,

softly spoken,

a new kind of broken,

with nothing sweet to say.


Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Lockdown: Day Number… Honestly, I Don’t Know

The world is ending,


I’m not a doctor,

or the prime minister,

so I can’t be sure,

but everything feels unapologetically apocalyptic,

so I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to think.

I think I’m supposed to panic,

but I’m actually relieved,

laying in the dark,

remembering little moments of life,

my heart,

still in the lonely sea,

waiting for me to return.


Maybe I will.

Wading home to the waves,

the moon shining on the steps,

as they watch me,

in silent but resigned horror.

If it’s over,

really over,

then lockdown be damned,

let me go home.

I want to go home,

to the only place where I felt whole,

the only place where the emptiness was ignorable,

the only place where I felt free.

If I close my eyes,

the tears on my cheeks,

feel like home,

and I am so blissfully alone,


waiting for the end of the world,

so I can shrug off the guilt,

at how little I wanted to be here in the first place.